“And I suppose I am to congratulate you,” said Ethel, with rather a chill smile.
“On what, pray?” asked Letty, putting the top of her slipper on the fender, and clasping her hands around her knee in a graceful but unconventional attitude.
“Upon your engagement to Mr. Farebrother,” said Ethel, looking more surprised than Letty.
“But I am not engaged to Mr. Farebrother,” answered Letty, sitting up very straight, “and he has not asked me to marry him.”
“Oh, I am so sorry for you,” cried Ethel. “I would never have mentioned it if I had known.”
“Why are you sorry for me?” demanded Letty, her cheeks showing a danger signal.
“Because—because, dear, after a man has paid a girl the marked attention for weeks that Mr. Farebrother has paid you, it is certainly very bad treatment not to make an offer, and I should think your grandpapa would bring Mr. Farebrother to terms.”
Letty’s surprise was indescribable. She could only murmur confusedly:
“Grandpapa—Mr. Farebrother to terms—bad treatment—what do you mean?”
“Just what I say,” answered Ethel, tartly. “If a man devotes himself to a girl, he has no right to withdraw without making her an offer, and such conduct is considered highly dishonorable in England.”